Together Again
by lotrfan
Summary: Chris and Cathy finally get together. For those of who that thought the end of PotW could have been more explained. Rated R for mildly graphic incest.


1 Title: Together Again  
  
Author: lotrfan  
  
Genre: Romance, Drama  
  
Rating: R (for a mildly graphic sex scene)  
  
Summary: Cathy and Chris finally get together.  
  
Disclaimer: A long section is taken straight from the novel Petals on the Wind, by V.C. Andrews. I understand that these are not my characters, and as soon as I'm done playing with them I promise to give them back. *snickers to herself*  
  
A/N: This is a bit of a PotW outtake. They never really explained how Chris and Cathy got back together, and I really wish they would have. So this is my idea. Praise and constructive criticism appreciated.  
  
  
  
1.1 Together Again  
  
I sat on the veranda of Paul's house, pondering what I should do now that he was gone. Oddly, though I had loved him, I was not in the depths of despair, just sort of lonely, longing for companionship. I wondered what Chris would think about me finding another father figure for Jory and Bart. Probably wants it to be him. Oh, well, Chris would always be like that.  
  
Suddenly, I remembered what Paul had told me, a few months before he died:  
  
"Think about it, my darling. Your children need a father, the kind of father I can't be now."  
  
"It's my fault!" I cried. "If I had married you years ago, instead of Julian, I could have kept you well, and forced you not to work so hard and drive yourself night and day. Paul, if we three hadn't come into your life, you wouldn't have had to earn so much money, enough to send Chris through college and me to ballet classes…."  
  
He put his hand over my mouth, and told me but for us, he would have died years ago from overwork. "Three years, Catherine," he said. "And when you think about it, you will realize you are very much a prisoner, just as when you were in Foxworth Hall, waiting for your grandfather to die. I don't want you and Chris to grow to hate me…so think about it, and talk to him about it – and then decide."  
  
"Paul, Chris is a doctor! You know he wouldn't agree!"  
  
"Time is running out, Catherine, not only for me, but for you and Chris too. Soon Jory will be seven years old. He will be remembering everything more clearly. He will know Chris is his uncle, but if you leave now and forget about me, he will consider Chris his stepfather, not his uncle."  
  
I sobbed. "No! Chris would never agree!"  
  
"Catherine, listen to me. It wouldn't be evil! You are now unable to have more children. Though I was terribly sorry you had such a difficult time giving birth to your last son, maybe it was a blessing in disguise. I'm impotent; I'm not a real husband, and soon you will be a widow again. And Chris has waited for so long. Can't you think about him, and forget the sin?"  
  
Chris had been waiting a long time – thirteen years, in fact. I remembered how, after Jory had been born, Chris was always with him, treating him as if he were his own son. It had been so right, like we were playing parents again. Paul had said to forget the sin. And I did love Chris. I knew that. I still love him today. He brought a light into my pessimistic soul that made life bearable. I'd always felt awful, pushing him aside, wanting him myself, but I felt it so sinful. He was my brother, after all. But then again, he's so much more. That was true. He was. Chris had been very respectful of me lately, and what I wished. Ever since my involvement with Bart he'd stayed away from me, though I knew he still loved me. Little things that he tried to hide. Like at my wedding to Paul, when he'd hesitated giving Paul the ring. I almost turned back then.  
  
I wanted to turn back now. I wanted to forget thoughts of sin and be with the man I loved – that everlasting, forever-green springtime love that I had believed should never, ever blossom. Now I wanted it too. I had loved Chris forever, as he had loved me, and now I had decided I had no right to obstruct that love, and that I wanted to have it. I'd thrown him aside so many times, my heart secretly torturing me. I was going to let Chris have me.  
  
But how to go about it? How to accept it? How to hide it from the public and especially the gossips of Clairmont?  
  
I went inside and up to bed, pausing at the door to my sons' bedroom and looking in, opening the door gently.  
  
There, Jory and Bart. I'm going to get you the father you should have had all along.  
  
As I lay in my bed I formulated my plans, then drifted off to sleep.  
  
~*~  
  
The next morning Jory had a playdate with one of his friends from school. Emma had offered to take him, and she would also take Bart with her on some errands. This would give me a chance to be alone with Chris, and my mission for today was to see if he still loved me.  
  
It was July, so Chris and I had decided to go shopping for some birthday presents for Bart's upcoming fourth. As we walked through the shopping mall, we chatted lightly about the perfect gift for a four-year-old.  
  
"Cathy, we really ought to start him on books."  
  
"Books? We read to him all the time!"  
  
"Yes, but we need to give him something simple that he could learn to read himself, and get him to enjoy it, so he'll be ready when he starts school in a year or two."  
  
Two thoughts came in. My baby, going to school? It didn't seem possible. Then, of course, Chris the brain, wanting the intelligence he has to show up in his son…wait a minute. My thoughts stopped. Chris wasn't Bart's father, yet he was acting like he was. Was it co-incidence, or something more…  
  
"Well, aren't you a caring father?" I retorted.  
  
Chris began to laugh, then suddenly stopped. He looked into my eyes, then averted them. I could see the faintest tinge of pink on the back of his neck and on his cheeks. "I'm sorry if I overstepped," he said softly, still hiding his eyes.  
  
"Oh no," I said lightly. "It's wonderful that he has someone like you to look up to, now that Paul's gone."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Of course. Every child should have a father figure. Bart's lucky he has you, and so is Jory."  
  
Chris's blush deepened. On an impulse I reached out and took his hand in mine. For a moment he seemed slightly shocked, then he relaxed and held my fingers tightly in his. I never wanted that moment to end, us holding hands, walking blissfully along, without a care in the world except for each other. But, as always, I broke the moment.  
  
"Books it is!" I exclaimed, and let go of Chris's hand and dashed through a crowd. He followed me, laughing as others turned to stare.  
  
~*~  
  
On Bart's birthday, we had a small family party for him. He was pleased immensely by the books Chris and I had chosen, as well as some chocolate from Jory and a videotape from Emma. His face smeared with cake frosting, he slept in front of the television with his new tape in the VCR. He looked perfectly angelic. On the floor next to him, Jory was sleeping as well, but with a slightly more distinguishable face. Emma had retired to her room.  
  
Chris hefted Jory into his arms as I lifted Bart up and we carried them up to their room, washed their faces, and put them to bed. Jory woke up a little as I tucked him in.  
  
"G'night, Mommy," he said during an ear-splitting yawn. Then seeing Chris in the doorway, he added, "g'night, Daddy."  
  
Jory had constantly called Chris 'Daddy', even before Paul had died. I thought it sweet that he did. Chris burned with embarrassment, though he was obviously pleased. "Good night, Jory," he said, then slipped out into the hallway.  
  
I followed Chris back into the living room and we sat next to each other on the sofa. Impulsively I curled up my legs and leaned my head against Chris's shoulder. Chris responded by putting his arm about me and pulling me slightly closer to him. Neither of us seemed to know what we were doing. I remember thinking about how right it felt, to be held like this in Chris's arms. It was then that I realized where I was. But, unlike the many times before, this time I wanted to go farther. I put my arms around Chris and pulled him tightly to face me. Our lips were a mere inch apart. I could feel Chris's breath against my face, quickening as his heart began to throb.  
  
"Cathy, what are you doing?" he whispered softly, his hands embracing me and gently stroking my back.  
  
This was it. It's now or never, I thought, and I pressed my lips to his.  
  
Chris let out a small gasp but soon recovered. He kissed me passionately, only stopping once in a while to take a breath and then kiss me again. He moved his hands to the front of my blouse and began to undo the buttons. Then he stopped.  
  
"Cathy?" he breathed. I looked into his eyes. They were dark, limpid pools of desire. The look that had frightened me so many times before yet had excited me at the same time. "Are you…sure?"  
  
I gulped, then sealed my doom. "Yes. Chris, make love to me."  
  
Chris moaned softly, then reached to kiss me again. I could feel his need growing, and he wanted to and he tried to resist. "Cathy, I don't know…I don't want you to do something you will regret later."  
  
"I'd never regret this. The only thing I regret is not doing this sooner," I said, then gently bit his ear. Chris stiffened and then finished undoing my blouse. He slid it off and then, using the last of his willpower, said, "Here?"  
  
"No," I whispered back. "Your room."  
  
"Okay."  
  
He picked me up and then took me up the back stairs into his room, where he laid me down on his bed. He unclipped my bra and then bent to tenderly kiss my breasts. I then decided to unbutton his shirt and I tossed it away. Clothes were a burden here; they must be done away with. Chris hooked his fingers into my pants and panties and took then off swiftly. He looked me up and down and said reverently, "You're beautiful, my lady Cath-er-ine."  
  
The use of my old nickname brought tears to my eyes and intensified the love I felt for him which was so great already. I reached to undo the snap of his jeans, distracted by the bulge beneath them and fumbling. "Here, let me," he said softly and undid them himself. Then he took off his briefs and I looked at him, the same as he had done to me, and to me he was beautiful, with the moonlight shining through the window and lighting his body in an ethereal way, making him look like a god. My voice choked when I said, "So are you, my sir Christopher."  
  
Then he reached for me, moaning as we became one. That night I reached a high I never had achieved with any of my previous lovers. This was not just a pleasuring connection of bodies, but a linking of souls. Chris and I had a bond that I could never have with anyone else, nor could he.  
  
When it was over we lay together, just holding each other, even now sharing a special closeness only he and I could share.  
  
"I love you, my lady Cath-er-ine."  
  
"As do I, my sir Christopher."  
  
He bent over me. "You love yourself?"  
  
I punched his arm. "Of course I do, but I love you more, my love."  
  
Chris laughed softly and kissed me. "I know what you meant. Now what are we going to do?"  
  
"Sleep."  
  
He laughed loudly. "I know, but what about tomorrow?"  
  
"I was thinking, maybe we could do this again," I said.  
  
Chris grew serious. "Cathy, is this permanent? I mean, I've wanted this forever, and…I don't know…is our relationship going to stay this way?"  
  
"I hope so," I said, seriously too, "I love you, and I need you, not only for me, but you know how Jory and Bart love you. You're their father. Maybe not biologically, but in spirit. You love them like a father would. You're good for them, and for me.  
  
"Do you remember how you used to tell me that you wished you could just take me off somewhere where no one knew we were brother and sister, and live like a married couple without any worries?"  
  
"Yes," Chris said, stroking my cheek.  
  
"Well, why couldn't we? We could go off to California – live out our lives free from our past, and with our children, and be happy together, forever."  
  
Chris lay down again, holding my hand. After a few moments, he said, "Cathy, will you marry me?"  
  
"There's nothing I'd love more."  
  
With that we fell asleep in each other's arms, together again.  
  
The End 


End file.
